


Outside the Universe

by teicakes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A lot of nerdy space talk, Age Difference, Awkward Crush, Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21988627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teicakes/pseuds/teicakes
Summary: Shiro's never been one to have a type. Glasses? Sure. Fit or chubby? No difference to him. But on the first day of Exoplanets and the Exo-trodinary, he meets someone that breaks beyond his normal "no-type" crushes.Because it's not a student. It's his teacher, Sam Holt.(Gift for FenixSeraph for the Rare Pair Holiday Exchange)
Relationships: Sam Holt/Shiro
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Outside the Universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FenixSeraph](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=FenixSeraph).



> Merry Holidays Fen! This was a really interesting venture getting into what makes the Sam/Shiro ship really tick and I hope you enjoy!

Shiro never saw it coming.

He’d always been adventurous, sure, and open-minded. He hadn’t balked in middle school when a freckled, chubby boy had shyly asked him out. He hadn’t judged his friends when they began to date someone he’d never pictured them with (at least, he didn’t judge until their SOs started acting up). He’d never seen himself as the type of person to have a type, or a set list of yes and noes in a person, but at the same time he’d never experienced something beyond fondness or a puppy crush.

But on the first day of his Exoplanets and the Exo-trodinary (a terrible pun of a course name, he has to admit), it was a gut-punch of a revelation. An absolute blind side of a right hook. After so many years of finding the appeal in people after the initial first impression, he’s slapped dead in the face with crush-at-first sight.

With his professor.

Samuel Holt.

He hadn’t even really payed much attention to the guy before it, he’d just known him as the science professor. Seen the back of his head once or twice, heard Veronica make a passing remark about professor Holt running past with a stack of books. But standing there, at the front of the class. The moment he stood up straight, brushed chalk off his lapels and straightened his glasses, Shiro was hooked. The easy confidence in his voice as he introduced himself to the senior cadets, the way his wireframes rested on the crook of his nose as he looked down it and grinned at them all. Even the terrible pun he made, halfway through the syllabus, that had half the class groaning, Shiro only felt his heart beat faster. For his teacher. A guy easily twice his age.

“Oh… fuck…” he breathed, watching the way Professor Holt’s hand swept over the chalkboard to form long, looping letters.

“You can say that again,” groaned Veronica. “Two chapters of reading, on the first day?”

* * *

For the first week, Shiro tries to dismiss it. He’d just been caught off guard. A teacher he’d only ever heard about in bits and snippets, a whole bunch of half baked, pre-formed impressions he’d gotten from his friends and other teachers just mentioning him in passing. They’d all been in the same boat of “nice, but nothing standout” around the guy, and he’d been prepared for that. Not the Mr. Holt he’d met. His first reaction in class had been nothing more than that. The shock that he’d gotten the guy so wrong from what he’d heard.

So Shiro spends the better part of his first few classes picking apart his initial reaction to the professor.

He’d like the way he carried himself. It was that straight, militaristic poise that so many of the senior officers had here, but with rounded edges. Professor Holt wasn’t afraid to break out of it. There was that constant relaxed attitude towards it, as if presenting himself properly wasn’t something whipped or drilled into him, but something that came naturally. He’d walk around the lecture hall like that, hands clasped behind his back as he talked, and then all of a sudden he’d be leaning against a desk or wall, cracking a joke or making some corny mnemonic that’d have them all groaning, yes… but Shiro knew none of them could say they’d forget it anytime soon.

Then of course, there were his looks. Professor Holt wasn’t exactly the typical definition of the word ‘attractive’, but he wasn’t a strain on the eyes either. His face had the start of smile lines around the corners of his eyes, the line of his jaw still sharp and defined, as crisp as the press of his uniform. And his hair and glasses, the silver of them both. There was something simple and sophisticated with both, something that had Shiro’s eyes constantly flicking up from his page to look at them, take in how they both worked to frame his face so well. He was just… an attractive older man… there was nothing wrong with that.

Yeah… he’d just been taken by surprise at first. That was all it had been. Sure, Professor Holt was easy on the eyes, he made a pretty boring class sound exciting, but he wasn’t much special. That initial heart stirring moment had been just that, a moment.

Shiro manages to convince himself of that for a month. A month of classes, a month of perking up and picking Professor Holt out in a crowd in the hallways, a month of studying and flight simulators and more.

“Ugh, this is impossible.”

Veronica’s sprawled out on her back, head planted on Adam’s leg as the three of them struggle to finish Professor Holt’s first real assignment. _Real_ , meaning that the first one they’d all done a week ago had been nothing much more than a calculus review, and between him, Adam, and Veronica it had been easy enough to re-jog their memories on convolutions and Fourier transforms. This though, was a whole new ball game.

Adam throws down his notebook, hands up and raised in his typical, drama-class fashion he always gets to when he’s tired and low on caffeine. “How the hell are we supposed to be able to figure out the size of this thing? I mean… we _got_ the mass! That was okay, but the freaking radius? And then try and guess what materials it might be comprised of? What the heck is he on?”

“My guess is about five shots of espresso and a good night’s sleep,” comes the reply from Adam’s navel. “Pass the coffee, would you?”

Shiro pushes over the flask, still staring at the print out in front of him and trying to figure out just _what_ exoplanet detection method he wanted them to use. There’s a swig and a grunt as she takes a sip, before the thermos is being swiped by Adam for his own boost.

“You think its Doppler Beaming?” he asks, wiping away the dregs around his mouth.

“Can’t be,” Shiro frowns, flipping back in his notebook. _Crud…_ he’d sworn his notes had been better than this, but there’s an awful lot of little “ask Adam/V”s in the margins. “Doppler beaming works off of gravity, it shouldn’t be able to give us much else other than mass.”

“Pulsar timing then?”

“Nah,” V says, tugging another textbook over to her. “It’s super sensitive, sure, but same issue as with beaming. Pretty sure it won’t give us the radius. Plus, he didn’t give any info on the sun being a neutron star. Can’t make that assumption.”

“Well, we have to have covered it,” Shiro frowns, squinting closer at his notes where’s he’s written something in tiny, minute writing. “It’s due in two days, it’s not as if Professor Holt would just—”

“Not as if I’d what?”

“Not as if he’d-” he starts, only to trail off as he looks up at the shadow that’s just been cast over his papers. A sound like a dying seal leaves him as he comes face to face with the last person he’d expect to be in the library at this hour.

Professor Holt.

Shiro feels his face grow warm as his teacher looks down at him, that token easy, laid-back smile on his face. He’s not in his usual garrison uniform, instead having traded it in for a grey turtleneck and darker overcoat. His hair’s slicked back differently than usual, scarf draped carelessly over his shoulders.

Shiro’d be lying if he said his mouth didn’t go dry at the sight of it all.

If Holt takes notice of Shiro short circuiting, he doesn’t pay any mind. Instead he reaches down, plucking up Shiro’s notebook and looking it over with a chuckle. “Montgomery told me to come down and close up the library for her. Didn’t think I’d find a pack of my students being the reason Ms. Lee was still keeping it open.”

Shiro can only bob his head and hope to god there’s nothing stupid scrawled on the page Holt’s looking at. Veronica though, is her usual fearless self, and goes straight for the gut.

“Well, we wouldn’t be keeping her here if we could just figure out your dang assignment. I mean… c’mon! You taught us like… fifteen different detection methods already, how are we supposed to know which are important and which aren’t?”

He honestly can’t believe this. Veronica’s sassing their prof, to his face, smack in the middle of the library. He’s ready for the lecture to follow, the squint and the declaration that _‘cadet, you’re on thin ice’_ , but it doesn’t come.

Instead, Holt snorts, grabbing Shiro’s assignment off the table. “Well… they’re all important in their own rights Ms. McClain, I can promise you that much. As to what’s important for class, well, I think I dropped enough hints here and there in my slides as to which are the most popular and common methods, even if I spent more time on the more obscure. Take for instance, this graph of extrasolar planet discoveries Mr. Shirogane has here. I think the sheer percent of green bars speak for themselves. Even if he didn’t fully label them all.”

Embarrassment floods Shiro’s cheeks as Adam sits up to look at the horribly scribbled abbreviations he quickly scrawled next to his painstakingly drawn graph. _He hadn’t… there hadn’t been enough time to write the legend down before Holt moved onto the next figure._

“ _Fuck!_ Photometry! I knew I was overlooking something!” Adam flushes as he realizes what he’s just said in front of their prof. Shiro’s equally as mortified. “I… I mean… f-fudge…” he mumbles weakly.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, we’re all adults here,” Holt smiles, handing Shiro back his book. “And besides, I’m already off the clock. No need to tell Iverson about your choice in expletives. However…” his smiles takes on a mischievous grin, one that rivals even Veronica’s. “If you _do_ feel like swearing in front of faculty, particularly myself, I’d highly recommend something a little more exotic. I’m quite partial to _minchia_ myself.”

Veronica suddenly perks up like she’s on her sixth shot of coffee. “So you’re saying I can use _coño_ in front of you and you won’t give a shit?”

“Well, I wouldn’t quite _say_ that, but yes,” Holt chuckles, “so long as it’s under wraps enough from the other faculty, I’m not going to rat you out for some good old-fashioned stress releasing. Now if you three don’t mind, its getting late and I’d ideally like to be home before Dateline is on.”

“Of course, of course!” Veronica starts shoving papers into random bags and dragging Shiro and Adam towards the door before he can even fully process everything that’s happened in a few short moments. “Thanks so much professor! Get home to your dating life!”

“Dateline, but thank you,” he grins, trailing through the door behind Shiro. “I hope my little hint is enough to help you three with the assignment. And you do know, although I don’t advertise it, my door _is_ open to students if you need help. Mondays after three is best.”

“Thank you professor,” V says again, elbowing both Shiro and Adam in the ribs to copy her. Shiro manages to get out a garbled noise something like ‘ _thanks’,_ hiding the worst of his still flustered face in a short bow.

“Not a problem. Stay out of trouble you three.”

“Thanks Professor Holt,” Adam says, Shiro now focusing in on the crisp clean shoes he’s wearing as he hopes his cheeks calm down fast.

“Again, no problem at all. And if its just between us, the whole ‘professor’ thing is just too formal. Sam is fine.” He gives them a dorky little salute, complete with wink and all, and heads off towards the parking lot. Shiro watches his back until it disappears around the corner.

“Well,” Veronica looks to Adam, “that could have gone a whole lot worse.”

“Yeah… definitely.”

“He actually seems like a pretty chill guy. Who knew, right Shiro?”

“R-right…” he mumbles, fingers brushing over his page. “Surprising…”

 _Sam…_ Professor Holt had asked them to call him Sam. He swallows, slowly folding his notebook closed. He swears he’s hallucinating, but the pages still feel warm where he touched them.

* * *

It only gets worse from there. Because he’s no longer Professor Holt. He’s no longer just the garrison’s exoterra expert, or the teacher with the terrible puns. He’s _Sam_. The scientist that wears turtlenecks and watches dateline. He’s Sam, the man who lights up when he talks about what he loves, hands and entire body moving close to cartoondom when someone asks him a question in class that really gets him going.

And more often than not these days, it’s Shiro.

He knows some of the other students hate it, knows Roy rolls his eyes whenever Shiro prompts Sam to go on about some planetary discovery he forces himself to glance over for time. But he can’t help it. He loves the way his eyes sparkle at him whenever he does, that special smile that creeps over his face whenever he’s given the space to speak about something Shiro _knows_ he’s just dying to talk about. It’s not hard to imagine that smile being for other things, not just aliens and other words, but he tries to hold back… But he knows… he knows he wants it to be for him.

Sam’s infectious energy is growing on Shiro too. More and more, he’s finding himself reading ahead, looking up papers, documents, stuff far beyond their course material, trying to get more of a sense of the field Sam Holt loves so much. And it’s catching. The more he reads, the more Shiro loves it.

One day after class, he can’t hold back any more. He managed to hold his tongue during class (at the pained request of his friends at breakfast), but as Sam dismisses them and people start packing up, Shiro makes his move. He squeezes his way between book bags and behinds, trying not to look too much at professor Holt as he does. He’d been up late last night, he’d been reading until almost two, getting more and more excited the more he’d read. He _has_ to share it with someone. _That someone_.

“P-professor,” he stutters, fiddling with his hair as if it wasn’t cropped short and simple. “Do you have a minute?”

Holt stops stuffing a binder of notes into his bag, giving Shiro one of those token smiles of his. “I think I can spare one or five. What’s up cadet?”

“I… I…” he swallows, trying to fight the rising heartbeat mounting up his spine. He wasn’t ready for Sam’s eyes to bore into him like this, eager and sparkling. “I just wanted to know… did you read that article on toroidal planetoids?”

Sam’s brows arch up. “I might have. Are we talking about the Scientific Daily one or the White paper?”

“Well… I guess the Scientific Daily. And the White paper. And the Stack Exchange discussions. And maybe a few videos on Youtube and—”

“So that means you saw the Monte Carlo video from that guy who modelled the gravity?!”

The excitement in his eyes has Shiro blushing. “Yes!” he blurts. “All the simulations of the feather drop in different locales?”

“Amazing, right?! Especially when he went into the escape velocities and different possible toroidal shapes! And how everything varies depending where on the planetoid you’d be, and the day-night cycles, and the weather patterns—”

“It’d have entirely different ecosystems from what we’ve ever know!”

“ _Exactly!”_ Sam’s eyes have taken on a maniacal twinkle to them, like a child at Christmas ready to be let loose on a stack of presents. “I… I have to admit Shiroga-”

“Shiro,” he babbles. “Shiro is fine.”

“ _Shiro_ … I’ll remember that. I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be the type to be so interested in exoplanets and alien life, but count me pleasantly surprised!”

“Y-you thought I wouldn’t?” The remark has him thrown off balance, suddenly off-balance from the euphoria he’d been feeling.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re smart as a whip. Your grades and attitude towards your studying makes that clear as day. I’m just not used to students in the piloting program being interested in the science that can come from space travel. Usually they’re all gunners, looking to be the next “Maverick” or “Iceman” and don’t pay much more attention to non-flight stuff than they have to. But you—” Sam claps Shiro on the shoulder, beaming up at him, “you’re something special, I tell you. Shiro, you’re going to go places.”

“Th-thank you…”It’s all he can do to blurt out a half-intelligent thank you and excuse himself. Sam walks him to the door, hand returning once more to his shoulder as he says his farewells. The smile he gives Shiro as he does is nothing less than breathtaking.

Shiro feels like screaming the whole way back to his dorm. His heart won’t stop beating, he can’t stop touching the place Sam had touched him before, his mind keeps racing back to that perfect smile and passion in his eyes.

He’s got it bad.

* * *

Two months later, he gets the results of his latest simulator test.

62\. A bare pass in some places, but for the garrison, far from acceptable. Far enough that he’s in Iverson’s office, with Montgomery over his shoulder as he’s lectured about his performance. He’s heard about it before, _heard it_ before, from friends and when he’d been rash in his choices when he’d first started here. He’d taken it then. Let them yell at him and pick out the constructive criticism from the breaking down and building up they did.

This time though… this time it’s worse. Because halfway through the meeting, as Iverson starts talking about his performance in other classes, the door opens and Sam walks in.

Sam, looking over the printouts and frowning, his brow wrinkled as he looks from Shiro to Iverson and back.

Shiro feels his heart sink as Sam takes his place over Iverson’s other shoulder. As much as he tries his best, strives to be the best he can be, Iverson’s never been one to highlight someone’s achievements. He’s the type to like to thrust all your flaws in your face in an effort to make you reflect.

Which means he’s going to name all Shiro’s shortcomings… right in front of Sam.

“Says here that Professor Hedrick hasn’t found you to be the best team player out there. Found out you took over an entire group assignment and went rogue.”

Shiro bites his tongue. He could tell them how Santos and Mitchell had decided to fuck off and get shitfaced the weekend it was due, but he doesn’t. His job here isn’t to defend himself, it’s to take what’s doled out and respond with actions.

Iverson continues. “And then there’s been another few occasions where you’d stepped in to takeover and lead without being asked. Class discussions, responsibilities assigned to other students. Really… it looks like you have a track record for going off and doing your own thing, regardless of what your team says.”

Shiro’s fists ball in his lap, ready for what’s to come.

“So, cadet Shirogane, it seems to me as though this rogue outburst during your latest team simulator test is another in a pattern of outbursts. The fact that you went against your navigator and decided to land in dangerous, difficult to navigate topography… I don’t think this is just a one time mistake. I think it’s a pattern, and one we can’t afford to have continue.”

Shiro swallows, trying to hold back. There’s so many emotions raging inside him right now, bubbling, ready to swell forwards and surge out of his mouth. He wants to tell Iverson he’s wrong, that everything he's listed in sharp, unfeeling facts are just that, barely scratching the surface of the details that linger there. But it’s not his place. He’s just a cadet. His job is to take it, to listen to his superiors and bow his head when told off. Even when they’re Sam Holt, the man he loves and respects far more than he’ll ever be willing to admit. The sick churning in his gut has him unable to look him in the eye, let alone Iverson. If he just keeps looking at the Commander’s thumbs, if he keeps his eyes trained on buttons instead of faces, he can make it though this.

“Permission to question the cadet?”

Shiro’s body goes stock still.

The one to request… is Holt. He… he doesn’t think he’s ready for this, doesn’t think he can handle Sam bringing up some sterile statistic that’ll suggest what a poor sport he is. He’s strong, but he’s not that strong. No one is. How are you supposed to be, when the person that makes your heart beats looks at you like that?

“Shiro, could you please look at me and the commander when you answer.” Sam’s voice is cool, emotionless. It has his whole body prickling. “Could you please explain why you chose to land in the mountains you did instead of the ice fields?”

He blinks, looking up at Iverson’s chest. “What?”

“I said, could you please explain your choice. And also, please make eye contact with myself and the commander.”

Shiro risks the smallest glimpse at Sam. His face is set in the picture of indifference, except for the look in his eyes. Bright. Mischievous. Shiro licks his lips.

“I… I read the briefing file before the assignment. It said the entire planet was covered in ice, but that it also had erratic seismic activity. That… that would suggest that the permafrost layer could potentially be impacted by fluxes of magma and slow eruptions beneath. And—” he glances at Sam. He’s smiling. “And… and seeing how we were to specifically land in an area with known geothermal vents… the chance of undetected ice caverns in the ice fields we were headed for… there was a non-negligible chance that the place where we landed may not be able to take the weight of the cruiser. So I landed on the mountain. Where we knew there was solid ground.”

Sam nods, leaning in close to Iverson. He hands him the files he’s holding, satisfied little smirk as he does. “Exactly what I was going to say. Although at first glance the ice fields look to be the safest, Shirogane is correct. Given what was provided in the mission brief and what he’s shown in my course, its nothing less than logical he would chose to do what he did. If you have any further doubts, I had Colleen help run the numbers.”

Iverson snatches the papers from Sam with a vice grip, eyes quickly scanning over the report. The further he gets, the more Sam’s mouth curls up at the corners and the more his face darkens. When he gets to the bottom of the page, he throws the pages onto his desk.

“Well…” he growls, evidently not pleased. “I suppose that if Sam here is correct you were… not entirely… in the wrong cadet. I suppose… I suppose an adjustment is in order. Maybe not quite the one he’s proposing…. but… let’s say 78?”

Shiro’s mouth falls open. Never. Never in his life has he heard of Iverson _raising_ someone’s mark. “Uh… uh sure. That… that sounds okay…. _Sir!_ ”

The commander grumbles, waving Shiro from his office. “Just don’t repeat it again. The next time you decide to pull science into the mix you’d damn well better explain it to your team too.”

“Y-yessir!!” He backpedals towards the door, bowing every few feet. He can’t believe it. He’d been saved… his mark had been pulled up from a fail to the class average. _And…_ Shiro slides down against the wall, clutching his chest. _And the person who’d done it… it’d been Sam. Sam Holt_.

He… he’d have to thank him later. Get him a gift, something to show how much it meant to him.

Shiro runs his hands through his hair, trying to process everything that’d just happened. All he knows is he’s out of the doghouse, and that his heart won’t stop beating, no matter how hard he tries to calm it.

* * *

“Sir?”

Shiro stands in Holts doorway, fingers clutched around a small package. He hasn’t even stepped foot inside yet and already butterflies are forming in his stomach at the sight of the man bent over papers on his desk. He looked so calm… absorbed… He feels guilty disturbing him like this.

Holt pulls his glasses off the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and chuckling as he looks up at Shiro. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite pilot. Come in, come in. How many times have I asked you to call me Sam?”

“A-a lot.” As much as he’s dying to, he’s scared it’ll become a habit if he lets himself say it out loud. He stands in front of Sam’s desk, parcel clasped behind his back. Sam gives him a look, eying the chair just a few inches to his left.

“I… I don’t want to take much of your time.”

“It’s no bother,” Sam waves, “but if that’s what you want who am I to say no. What can I do for you?”

Shiro’s nails dig dents into his wrapping job. “I… I wanted to give you something. As a thank you.”

“Shiro, there’s really no—”

“No, really!” He thrusts the gift forwards in a deep bow, hoping his reddening face is hidden by his bangs. He feels like a character in a drama, confessing to their crush, and the thought of it makes this all that much more real. “I… I really didn’t get a chance to thank you for what you did for me that time. And for everything you’ve taught me in class. I… I never thought I’d be so interested in that side of space exploration until I met you.”

The weight is lifted from his palms, the tissue rustling as Sam juggles the box. “I… I can’t say I could have expected this, but I’m glad I had an impact on you. It takes a special kind of person to be interested in what I specialize in, but it also takes the right growing conditions. If not… you might not blossom into the person you could be.”

Shiro nods, face still bowed as Sam begins to rip off the paper.

“Shiro… this is—”

“Its a kettle. For coffee. And a hand drip filter. I… I know you always drink a lot, and you’ve complained about the cafeteria coffee not being your favourite and how much you like the way indie coffee shops make it and…” he bites his lip, realizing he’s rambling. “So… so I got you this set. My brother used to work in a coffee shop back home and recommended the models. You have to get your own beans and filter, but the method’s pretty simple. I… I could show you some time, if you'd like. Or else there’s a ton of videos online, or—”

He jolts back as fingers wrap around his own, Sam’s hands cupping his as he looks up at him.

“Thank you. Thank you Shiro. I’ll treasure this.”

It takes everything he has to nod and excuse himself, turn around and walk out that door. Sam keeps thanking him the whole time, promising to let him know the first time he tries it. It makes him want to stay, to show Sam then and there, but he can’t. He can’t betray his feelings like this. Not now. Not until—

“Shiro…” A hand braces on his shoulder, as warm and steadying as his smile. “Hold on a moment. I have something for you.”

If his heart was beating fast earlier, it’s now pounding in his chest, slowing beating up his throat as the blood continues to flood his face and ears. He feels so hot, so obvious…. Sam _has_ to see it. There’s no way he can’t…

“Here. Something for your twenty-first. Or your fifth and a quarter.”

Shiro stares down at the bottle in his hand, the amber liquid and the black label decorated with gold script. As inexperienced as he is, he recognizes it for what it is. Whiskey. Japanese whiskey. And if what little he knows is true, its an expensive bottle.

“I… I can’t take this.” He blurts. “It’s too much.”

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Sam says, patting his shoulder. “Trust me, it’s not. I know a few friends.” The wink he gives Shiro is deadly, sending his loosened heart pinging even more erratically around his chest. “I overheard your friends in the halls joking about your birthday, saying it’d only be 63 more years until you’d be of age. From there, well…” he snorts, “I wasn’t too hard to put two and two together. I figured with a birthday like yours you may have a bit of a hard time going out to celebrate, plus, the Garrison doesn’t exactly condone leaving campus for bar nights. There’s a nice little blind spot though, out behind the F-9 shed though. If you just so happened to wander over there with this, I’m pretty sure the watchtower wouldn’t be able to notice a couple of friends ringing in your adulthood.”

“I…” Sam pats his arm, fingers lingering as they sweep down the length. “I… Thank you. Pr-”

Sam’s eyebrows arch.

“— Sam. Thank you… Sam.” The name feels smooth and weighty, like a chocolate truffle on the tongue. He wants to roll it around, test it again and again, until he gets used to this rich warmth flooding his senses. “I… I’ll think of you when I try this.”

“Good. And I’ll think of you, whenever I have a cup from this. If it turns out like the cafeteria junk… well… I guess I’ll just have to call you in to my office to show me the right way.”

The thought of it is almost painful. Himself and Sam, alone… going through the slow, meditative rituals of grinding beans and pouring spirals. Of those soft, scholar’s hands brushing against his own. The stolen touches, the peaceful silence, the gentle moments filled only with the drip drip drip of coffee. He wants it… he wants it so much his heart already aches at the thought of it.

“I’ll be ready.” Simple. Unobvious. Unshowing of the months and months of feelings that have been growing slowly inside of him.

Sam smiles, one last touch and squeeze of his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting.”


End file.
